Wake of the Storm
by meisterful
Summary: Sequel to my fic After the Storm, set five years after Katara left the firenation and Zuko behind for the South Pole. When Zuko receives a mysterious letter from who he believes to be his Uncle he writes to Katara for help. Old emotions arise as they try to pull together the last pieces of their broken but healing world and families, but will they have a happy ending this time?
1. Serendipity

**SERENDIPITY: **The occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.

* * *

It takes her a long time to read his letter.

It takes her even longer to reply,

But when she does,

And she does,

She feels just a little bit better.

They write regularly,

Or,

As regularly as they can without a flying bison as a go between.

She tells him about her new life,

How there have been new births,

And new water benders for her to train.

She shares her worries for Gran-Gran's health

And her triumph at finding Gran-Gran again.

He tells her about being Firelord,

And all the boring meetings and obligations that go with it.

He also tells her about Azula,

And her progress.

And eventually,

They both,

Tell of their grief.

It starts simply when she writes,

_It's days like these when I miss Sokka most_.

It get's less simple when he replies,

_Do you think it's our fault?_

It takes her a while to reply.

_No._

It takes her a while longer to believe her answer.

A year goes by,

And then another,

And another.

What started as frequent letters,

Soon become infrequent letters.

Her birthdays pass,

And so do her betrothal offers.

Toph visits,

Suki visits,

And eventually,

Even Aang,

Visits.

The letters that arrive do not receive replies for a while,

But things are said,

And made clear,

And there is closure.

And the letters are answered again,

Though,

They are answered less frequently

And they arrive less frequently.

She is considered something of an anomaly in the rebuilt South Pole.

She is now nineteen years old,

And unmarried.

But this changes.

There is a man come back from war.

He is not much older than her,

And he is kind.

And there is no pressure,

And she feels herself wanting something she hasn't wanted in a long time.

The announcement is made.

Before the last hunt of the season, the water bender will finally wed.

She means to write him,

To write all of them,

To share her good news.

She doesn't.

She is married,

And she is loved,

But as kind as he is,

And as understanding,

It is not like it should be.

She reasons with herself that it has been a long time,

She has simply forgotten what it feels like.

She reasons that Gran-Gran is sicker,

That she is just distracted.

She does care about him,

She wants to be married to him.

She likes being married to him.

They are good together.

But still,

She can't help but wonder,

_What if._

The hunt comes,

Then men leave.

They spend a late night saying goodbye in the way that only lovers can.

She sees him off the next morning,

And it is the last she sees of him.

Nineteen,

Married no more than a month,

A widow.

She wonders if she is cursed,

If she is being punished,

If there is a reason,

That everyone,

She cares for,

Dies.

She mourns,

Not just him,

But what he represented.

Gran-Gran tries to hold on,

She really does,

But no one can hold off the spirit world for long.

The day after,

A new letter arrives from the firenation.

She will not look at it.

She waits a month,

Wondering,

If she is truly alone,

If all her ties to her birthplace are gone.

When she bleeds,

She knows for sure.

She reads the letter.

She considers writing a response.

She reads it again.

What are the odds,

She thinks,

The he asks for her help now.

He does not know of her marriage,

Or how it ended.

He does not know about Gran-Gran.

And yet this is when his letter arrives.

This is when he needs her.

She stares at the candle flickering on her table.

It has been a long time since she associated the necessity of fire,

With,

Him.

She is not ready,

Will she ever be ready?

It will take her a month,

Maybe two,

To reach the firenation.

Winter is coming,

She only has this chance.

She must make up her mind.

It is already made up.

She doesn't bother writing a response.

She will arrive at the same time it will.

She stands up and surveys her igloo.

Strangely it doesn't feel like home anymore.

She spends the night packing,

And leaves on the next available ship two days later.

She is on another ship deck,

With another letter in her hands.

But this letter,

She reads on board.

Or rather,

She re-reads it.

_Katara,_

_I have received a letter. Uncle is alive but I think he is in trouble. Please come._

She does not know what it means,

Or even where he is.

For all she knows he has already left in pursuit.

If it were her family,

She knows she would have.

But that does not matter.

She is going to him,

To help him find his family.

And if she has to chase him across the four nations to do it,

She will.

After all,

He may need someone to save him from the pirates.

* * *

**A/N: **Well I did promise you all a sequel didn't I? This sequel is going to be considerably shorter than After the Storm and told probably in seven parts based off the prompts for zutara week 2012. I hope you all enjoy it as much as you did After the Storm.


	2. Momentous

He can still remember his brush moving ink across the parchment.

He can still fell the nerves,

The anticipation,

The fear,

And even,

Even though he wasn't a fan of it,

He can still feel,

The hope.

He feels it again now,

Even though he tries not to.

Uncle once said,

_Destiny is a funny thing Prince Zuko…_

He thinks that letters are a funny thing too.

While he sits thinking,

About the letter,

What he thinks of as,

_The_,

Letter,

There is another,

A letter with ink that only shows,

Under heat,

Under fire.

And it is Uncle's hand writing.

The news is unbelievable,

Except it makes sense,

Perfect sense really.

It explains why there have been so few attempts on his life,

Why troublesome council members,

Ones he suspected of being loyal to Ozai,

Resigned,

Or,

Disappeared.

He used to curse Uncle for disappearing,

He was angry,

And sad.

But he understands now,

Uncle has done what had to be done.

He has made hard choices,

And sacrifices.

Then again so has he.

Firelord,

Vigilante.

Uncle is not the blue spirit,

But he might as well be.

But Uncle is also old,

And getting older.

It has been a long five years,

Too long.

So he writes to her for the first time in months.

Too many months,

Too much time,

But he writes.

His letter is short,

Simple.

He asks for the help he is sure she will give.

He waits a long time for a response,

Longer then he should,

But he cannot do this alone,

And the others will not understand,

The way she will.

So,

He continues to wait,

For an answer.

And he receives it,

Receives her,

In his throne room,

One morning,

Unawares.

He can see her rumpled clothes,

Her dirty, hair,

The tired slump to her shoulders,

But at the same time,

He doesn't see any of that.

He just sees her,

More then he remembered,

Not quite what he dreamed of.

"Katara."

Her name comes out like a whisper,

The kind reserved for late nights,

And soft touches.

It's an inappropriate tone,

And he's getting strange looks,

But she,

Just,

Smiles,

And answers,

"Zuko."

No Prince,

No Firelord,

Just,

Zuko.

Just,

Him.

It has been a long time,

A far too long time.

And he resolves in this moment,

He will never repeat this kind of long time,

Again.

There are formalities to get out of the way,

Things that must be said because,

He may be Zuko,

But he is also,

Firelord.

He sees her try to hide a smirk through the whole thing.

When he greets her more formally,

And she responds in kind,

He sees her smile.

When he offers her time to rest

And she graciously accepts,

He sees her smile.

When he invites her to a quiet dinner,

And she says that would be nice,

He sees her smile.

And even though he is meant to be serious,

And imposing,

And formal.

He smiles too.

When she leaves for her rooms,

He immediately calls a steward,

And orders that all his other dinner guests are uninvited.

He does not want to be formal tonight.

He just wants it to be him,

And her,

And the friendship he's missed.

He gets the cooks to make her favourite firenation dishes

And he leaves his crown and heavy robes behind.

He has the servants set them up in a smaller room,

One that's rarely used.

He doesn't want the drama of the formal dining room.

He's there before she is,

But when she arrives,

He almost forgets who he is.

She's wearing a dress of very deep blue,

It is cut off the shoulders,

Revealing an expanse of smooth dark skin.

The fabric clings to her in all the right places,

But still manages to leave much to the imagination.

Even though the dress is simple,

And not at all formal,

He suddenly feels underdressed in his tunic,

With his hair out and a little too long.

She is not the fourteen year old girl he pined for anymore,

She is a woman,

More beautiful and intimidating,

Than,

Every possible bride his council has marched in front of him.

She touches her hair self consciously.

"Zuko?"

He comes back to himself and stands.

She smiles at him,

And he smiles back.

And then she is hugging him,

Not the fast hug of friendship and forgiveness,

Or the quick relief of not dying.

It is not even the lingering embrace that precedes a kiss.

The hug is simple.

She missed him,

And he missed her,

And they are together again,

Now.

When finally she pulls away she wastes no time,

"So what's in this letter?"

He sits down and she joins him.

"My Uncle is alive and he's been helping all this time and I never even knew it."

She spoons some rice out onto his plate,

And then onto hers.

"Zuko that's great! Does he want to see you?"

He frowns.

"Why now?" he asks. "Why wait all this time and not say anything until now?"

"You think it's a trap."

"I don't want it to be." He says quietly.

He can't bear to think that it might be fake,

But he must.

And he hates that he must.

It shows on his face,

And,

She puts her hand over his.

"Where does he want to meet?"

He entwines his fingers with hers,

Bold,

Too bold,

But he needs comfort,

Needs her.

"A teashop in the earth kingdom."

"When do we leave?" she asks

He meets her gaze,

Blue,

So blue,

Bluer then anything a firelord has any right too.

And he sounds every bit the firelord when he answers determinedly,

"Tomorrow."

They make plans then,

Talk of travel routes,

Decide to travel as anonymously as possible.

And then,

As the hour grows later,

They talk more of themselves,

And each other,

And the past five years.

They talk of simple things,

Unimportant things,

But at least,

They are,

Talking.

Finally it dawns on her how late it is.

He wouldn't have noticed otherwise.

He walks her to her door.

She pauses outside.

"I'm glad I came." She says quietly.

"Me too." He answers.

It's dark,

And the only light comes from a flame at his fingertip,

But their faces aren't too close,

And as much as he wants to,

It is not the time.

He has to remind himself,

This is not the Katara he knew before.

"Goodnight." He says.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

He smiles a little and nods,

Watches her turn her back,

And close the door.

He slumps against the wall.

This may not be the Katara he knew before,

But she feels like it.

It is like every feeling,

And thought,

He had to put aside when she left,

Is back,

As if never banished.

He takes a deep breath,

And exhales flame.

He wants to get to know this Katara,

And he is very glad,

Very,

Very, glad.

That she came.


End file.
